Morose
by atreriaestus
Summary: Vincent/Cloud. Cloud's finally learning to let go and wants to say goodbye to ... an old friend. Who else should he bring but the onyxbrowed gunslinger? ::OLD-Please Do Not Review.::


**A/N:** Okay, this is one of my older ones. My girlfriend and I used to RP CloudxVin, annnnd ... I got inspired? I still love this pairing though! There's so much angst, yet so much understanding! Granted, the way I write Cloud is a little too ... pussy (can you tell I RPed the Vin the relationship), but we just love our Kuraduke.

**Disclaiminess: **Alllllllll respective charaaaaaaacters belong to Nomuuuuuuura-Samaaaaaaa. Worship him Now. Oh, and Squeenix.

**Rating: **Teen. It's ... fairly innocent.

* * *

His eyes were dark …

That was the only word he could think to describe them, and they were as such, in every possible sense of the matter. They weren't bright. They weren't cheerful. They weren't lively. They were dark—as if always scanning some inner, bleak horizon. Morose, too, the crimson harmonized with the same hue of blood. But they were … spellbinding. One could be lost in that gaze for hours, wandering the maze of corridors the color streaks of the irises made.

And lost, Cloud was. The only thing that distracted him was the soft twitch of recognition the ebony brow made. The youth couldn't help, nor hide the carmine that stained his cheeks from shame and stutter.

"… I—"

"I do not care," Came the interruptive, blunt response. Momentarily, Cloud thought it came off as rude and was about to say something when he noticed the satin lips purse open again. "Stare all you wish."

Relief washed over his form, nerves loosening in every in every limb, right down to every digit. He rested his hands on the rusted sword that jutted forth from the ground. Cloud remembered this sword… very well, now that he had all his memories back in place, even if they still seemed synthetic. As heaved a soft sigh, fingertips running over the handle he used to hold … the leather grip Zax used to hold. Bustersword. Yeah, he remembered.

He lofted his gaze from the weaponry to the very horizon that he thought he'd seen in the dark man's eyes. He had died here before … or so it seemed. When the Soldier First Class had told him to run while in his coma-like state. The commanding voice echoed on the walls of his mind, forcing his eyes to close shut.

It was like a nightmare being dreamed again … or a shattered record that still played its alluring tune…

"Strife, why did you bring me here?" His thoughts were interrupted. Oh, how he loathed it when Vincent called him by his last name. He was one of the few who did, but the only one he wanted to hear say his first name … if it could even be called his name. He was a completely different being now, wasn't he?

"I … wanted to say goodbye to an old friend."

"Why does such a task require my presence?"

Nothing could send a pang of pain through gut and whole body like that brusque tone. Vincent was right, though … It was a deed that needed no one else.

So why … HAD he brought Vincent? There had to be more of a reason in existence besides simply, 'I want someone pretty to look at while I'm sad'. No, Cloud didn't think like that. While the taller male was very beautiful, indeed, that detachment to his emotions was never present.

"I don't know," He replied candidly. "Maybe I just wanted the support?"

"You have Lockheart for that."

Damn that man's inanity—and habit of using last names—when it came to matters of the heart. Was that the reason Lucrecia turned him down…?

'Now, Cloud. That was uncalled for,' He berated himself mentally.

Truth be told, he didn't have feelings for Tifa anymore. He had as a child… very much so, but segregation from his peers had led him to be comfortable in isolation, and had later allowed him to grow fond of it. Until Aeris, who was bent on breaking the shield of ice he'd built around himself. But… then with what had happened to her … well, it was easy to lose interest in females.

Now, how to tell Vincent?

"Truth be told, Vincent, I don't… have feelings for Tifa anymore," He restated what his mind had previously said with exactitude. Despite the familiarity it held in his mind, it still seemed alien to his lips. The other male didn't react and he assumed that was his key to keep talking. "I used to, but … So many years a part … And then Aeris … Well, she and I …" He trailed off, unable to continue. Talking about The Fallen Cetra was not something he enjoyed.

"I do not understand Miss Gainsborough's relativity to Donovan's grave." Donovan? How the hell did Vincent know Zax's last name? "You often say his full name in your nightmares," The obscure man stated, and Cloud momentarily mused over how eerie it was he could seem to read every thought that crossed behind his blue eyes.

"It doesn't! I just … wanted to tell you that …" Though the other's eyes still remained detached, they showed the faint flickers of interest as the sapphires tried to purloin Strife's thoughts before he thought them, to an obvious no avail when they softened in febrile concern. "… Well …"

Might as well be blunt with it, he thought as he hung his head, more in fear of the reaction from the brooding male than shame. Oh, yes, the shame had been dealt with long ago. With acquaintances such as Barret and Cid, who could not learn some humiliation?

Except Vincent.

They never bothered Vincent.

Ever.

… Why?

Just look at him.

Scary isn't the right word …

Yes. Intimidating. That was it.

"Well…?" The skulking male interrupted his thoughts once again, and the would-have-been-ex-soldier realized with dismay that he'd been staring again, staring into those smoldering hues. He couldn't help it. Those occult hues were like whirlpools of blood, but … not grim blood. Not blood from wounds. More like blood from a deep-seated connection—more like blood that pooled during a passionate embrace.

His mind—which he had trouble even calling his own anymore—entered some kind of metaphorical stream. He couldn't control the flow of the river, nor its destination, or even how deep the crystal water flowed.

He drowned in it.

He loved it.

It took him several minutes to finally realize petal like tiers were against his mouth … but he didn't pull away and blush as he had so often dreamt before, and nor did the damnable blush taint his features. Instead, a deprived muscle parted those silken lips, albeit surprised by the effortlessness of such a task. Limbs wrapped around the taller form's neck and tangled in the onyx that smelled of wind and rain. Indignant sapphire hues locked tight as a soft whine left his throat, begging for a reaction from the elder.

He wanted a reaction. Any reaction. He didn't care if his tongue was stroked or his stomach was struck. Both were better than the effigy outline the other currently held.

And then … he thought maybe …

Yes!

He felt the swell of the taller male's tongue twitch beneath the soft lash of his own tip, and even a pure animalistic reverberation in the billow of the opposing throat. Vincent could purr? Oh, what did it matter now! He had the colleague's reaction. He knew, even from that tiny twitch, the shadow did not abhor him. Perhaps—God forbidding his mind get too ahead of him—he even … liked him?

Notwithstanding his disapproving hiss, Cloud broke the contact and opened his eyes to see those puddles staring right back at him.

Scrutinizing.

Not condescending.

But studying him.

The blonde shifted under that torrential gaze as a lover would writhe in their arms, and he berated himself for such movements that accidentally made his digits unchain behind that powerful neck. Instead, the fingertips went downward to smooth the crimson velvet of his cloak, and his gullet gave a hoarse, nervous chuckle.

A long, slightly clawed finger rest against his lips, and he thought this was a notion to be silenced … but in a matter of heartbeats, the inclines ran softly at his velvety bottom lip, and the analyzing gaze softened.

He had never seen Vincent with such soft—almost caring—eyes.

"The threat is gone," he murmured, sounding as though he were speaking to himself rather than his cohort, and the blonde responded with a questioning grunt. "To the planet," he continued. "She is gone. He is gone. What is your evocation of the prospects, Cloud?"

"Well, I thought I'd—wait, just a damn minute. Did you just—?"

"Mm," came the quick response, and the even more rapid shudder from the ruby cloak was all that alerted him as the earth inverted … or so it seemed. No quicker than he had heard the throat mumble the sound did he realize he was looking heavenwards. It was an odd sight to behold. He was not used to seeing such a clear skyway in a very long time, and especially not this close to Midgar.

Even as Vincent was discontent in the sunlight, the few rays that warmed his cheeks seemed to be pleasant, and even contradicting to the rest of the group's theory of he being some sort of … mythical being.

Vampire. Bah!

He pondered longer on where the emissions of light came from; perhaps, just maybe … Aeris was smiling on them?

_If this is a dream … please … don't wake me._


End file.
